


Of Choices and Their Repercussions

by Banji



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: All kinds of messed up, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Betrayal, Blood and Gore, Brain Surgery, Death, Graphic Description, Medical Torture, Medical Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 04:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4947340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banji/pseuds/Banji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hyperion always gets their property back, no matter what or who it is.</p>
<p>Alternate events where the team gets apprehended by Hyperion at the Atlas Facility after assembling Gortys (with allusions to the 'Trust Fiona' outcome).</p>
<p>EDIT: Now a two-part disasterpiece!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vaughn

**Author's Note:**

> **“We are free to choose our paths, but we can't choose the consequences that come with them.”**
> 
>  
> 
> This is my first Borderlands fic but I'm in deep, fam. 
> 
> I'm not a doctor. Also I apologize for everything and nothing.

Vaughn wakes up to the sound of numerous beeps and whirs coming from the machinery around him. With a groan, he shifts and every muscle cries out in protest. Slowly, painfully, he opens his eyes, the room around him bright, blurry and unfamiliar. Someone took his glasses. Still, he can see enough that the room is cold and sterile, too clean for any place they’ve seen on Pandora. The smell of rubbing alcohol burns his nose.

 _This isn’t right_.

Vaughn’s mind searches for answers. He doesn’t remember much, but there are vague impressions. Running away from Vasquez, meeting up with the girls at Hollow Point, finding the location to the Gortys Project, then… nothing. Had something happened? He lifts a hand to his head, pulling an I.V. tube along with it. His brain felt like it had been thoroughly abused, pounding with every pulse and making it hard to concentrate.

A nurse, alerted by his movements, walks briskly into the room and studies his vitals from the machines next to him, writing information down on a clipboard. Vaughn turns his head slowly to look at her. Her uniform was pristine and trim, the Hyperion logo emblazoned across her left breast.

Wait, was he back on Helios?

 _No, no, that doesn’t make sense._ Vaughn frowns, trying to think. They had been at Old Haven, trying to put together the pieces of the map. August and Vasquez had taken Sasha and himself hostage while Rhys and Fiona—

“Rhys.”

His throat is dry and it made his voice nearly inaudible, but the nurse turns to look at him with what he assumes is a polite, generic smile.

“And how are we feeling?” she asks, her voice low and calm. 

“Rhys,” Vaughn repeats, a bit clearer. It wasn’t exactly a question. The nurse ignores him, instead pulling gently on one of his eyelids and pointing a flashlight into his eye. He tries to jerk away from the bright light, but he is too weak and the nurse firmly holds him still.

“Just checking your pupils. You took a nasty spill, Vaughn.”

She checks the other eye and pockets the flashlight, scribbling down notes. Vaughn shakes his head slowly at the woman’s out-of-focus face, still frustrated at whoever removed his glasses.

“How—where am I?” It sounds dumb as soon as it leaves his mouth and he quickly reiterates. “I mean, I don’t remember coming here.”

The nurse leans in closer to him, her features sharpening as Vaughn’s near-sightedness adjusts focus. “What do you remember?”

He furrows his brow at the question. Could he trust her with what they had seen?

“I was—we were at the old Atlas facility. We were trying to… trying to locate the Gortys Project.” Out of the corner of his eye, he notices her quickly jot notes down on her clipboard. “Rhys and Fiona had the keys or whatever, and they—“

_Rhys._

“Where is everyone else? Are they okay? What happened?” Vaughn feels awake now, and his mind fights against the medication he knew was being pumped into his system. Something isn’t right. The nurse’s face flashes with a momentary look of concern, but she quickly conceals it, once again smiling.

“You don’t need to worry about them, Vaughn. They’re being taken good care of.”

He doesn’t like the way she says ‘taken care of’, the way she calls him by name as if they’re good friends, the way she avoids giving a proper answer. Vaughn sits up quite suddenly, prompting the nurse to jump slightly and attempt to carefully push him back down.

“Please, you don’t need to get out of—“

“Where are my friends,” he repeats forcefully. His heart monitor begins to beep faster in the background and his head swims at being upright, but he remains focused on her.

The nurse’s smile wavers and she glances nervously at the door, as though she were being watched. It wasn’t unlikely, there were cameras all over the space station. “Your… friends are fine, Vaughn, just like I told you.”

_Stop using my name like that._

“The two girls from Pandora have been escorted back to their home, both unharmed, and Yvette had your former employment position reinstated. Everything is fine.”

_Stop saying it's fine._

“What about Rhys?”

The nurse goes wide-eyed, her face draining of color “I-I don’t--“

Vaughn finds himself grabbing her by the shoulders, gripping her tight enough to warrant a gasp. He doesn’t act like this but he can’t help himself.

“Where’s Rhys? What did you do with him?”

“I-I don’t know who that is,” she offers, squirming in his grasp. She is not a good liar.

He can feel himself starting to panic, his breathing becoming fast and shallow. The heart monitor beeps faster, an annoying constant ring in his ears. More figures blur into being as backup nurses quickly enter the room. Strong hands disentangle him from the nurse and hold him down to the bed. Vaughn struggles against their weight, kicking and fighting the whole time.

_“What did you do to him?!”_

His original nurse is pushed out of the way, the horrified look on her face apparent despite his vision problems.

**_“YOU MONSTERS, WHAT DID YOU DO WITH RHYS?!”_ **

“Put him under.”

Vaughn turns sharply towards the familiar voice. _Yvette?_

“Yvette, is that you?”

A taller figure stands next to what vaguely resembles his friend and colleague. “He’s been unconscious for days, knocking him out again could—“

“Put. Him. Under.”

Vaughn wants to scream. This is a nightmare, it has to be.

“Yvette, please—“ is all he can get out before a sharp prick in his neck threatens to take him out. His vision grows blurrier and darker despite his resisting, and soon Vaughn’s body goes heavy and limp.

 

* * *

 

 

When he wakes again, Vaughn is not entirely surprised to see that they’ve cuffed him to the bed. This time he forces himself out of the medicine-induced fog and steadily sits up. He feels around on the bedside table for his glasses, mercifully brushing his fingertips over them and quickly putting them on. Clear vision restored, he takes a moment to assess the damage.

Everything still hurts but he’s ready for it now. His joints feel stiff and there are bruises lining his arms and chest. Judging by the feeling, he guesses he’s probably bruised from head to foot. There’s a dull ache on the left side of his chest, like the sensation after a booster shot but multiplied by 10.

Vaughn smacks his lips, mouth and throat still dry. He spots a cup of water on the bedside table and eagerly takes it, drinking until the glass is empty. Another nurse enters as he sets the empty cup back down.

This one is not smiling as she checks his vitals, scrawling out rough notes on her clipboard.

“What happened to the other nurse?” he finds himself asking aloud.

The woman doesn’t look at him as she finishes writing.

Vaughn sighs, a bit pissed off as none of his questions have been answered. “Can you at least tell me why I’m in the med center?”

The Nurse clips her pen to her board and finally acknowledges him. “You were paralyzed and near catatonic when we found you, we gave you an injection to counteract the effects of the toxin, and you’ve been sleeping the effects off for…” She glances at her watch. “5 days.”

Vaughn ran a hand through his hair, trying to process the new information. “How… how was I paralyzed?”

“Don’t know, I only know the toxin from the lab reports. You’re fine now, so don’t worry about it.”

He shoots her an incredulous look. _Give this woman her bedside manner award._

As she turns to leave, satisfied with his vitals, Vaughn holds out his hand.

“Wait! Wait, I just need to know one thing, please.”

The nurse glowers at him but stays put. He takes a deep breath, as if to prove he’s keeping his cool this time.

“My friend, Rhys: what happened to him?”

“Sorry, can’t answer that. Classified information.”

Vaughn balls his hands into fists to keep from yelling. What the _hell_ could have happened? What was so wrong that no one would even acknowledge Rhys?

The nurse pauses at the door, her hand on the knob. She doesn’t meet his eye as she simply states, “Hyperion always gets their property back.”

She leaves Vaughn alone in the room to sit and ponder what horrible things could have happened while he was out.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s difficult to keep track of time on a space station. The never-ending field of black and stars outside the windows don’t do much for natural light, unless you happened to be on the side of the station facing Elpis. Then the moon glowed endlessly through your windows at all hours and you were forced to buy blackout curtains and an alarm clock to keep yourself synced on a coherent sleep schedule.

Vaughn knew it was late at night because the lights automatically dimmed after a certain time. That, and the last nurse to check on him had told him to have a good night. As if he could sleep with the thoughts running through his mind.

He must have drifted off for at least a short while before the sound of his door opening wakes him. He fumbles for his glasses as the intruder entered and quietly shut it behind them.

The nurse – the first one – has her hands clasped nervously as she slowly moves closer to his bed. With his glasses, he can see her clearly now. She wears a worried look on her face, her brown eyes darting from him to the door and back to him.

“I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be doing this,” she mumbles quietly, thought it was unclear whether this was directed at Vaughn or herself. She stops a short distance from his still shackled hands, an unsure look in her eyes.

He feels like maybe he should apologize for grabbing her the other day.

“What _are_ you doing here?” he asks, keeping his voice down as well. The nurse hadn’t been back in his room since the incident. Vaughn was fairly certain she’d been chastised – or worse – for causing his panic and was no longer allowed near him.

She hesitates, then carefully starts to remove his restraints. He sits up further, anxious to get the use of his arms back.

“I—you deserve to know what happened to the other—to Rhys,” she trips over her words, the air of genial bedside manner gone. Her voice is still low and comforting, but there’s a hint of fear that lingers on every word now.

“We’ve got to be quick, though. The other night shifters tend to slack off but they have to check in on everyone at least once an hour.”

She undoes the other restraint and Vaughn sighs a ‘thank you’, rubbing at his sore wrists.

After switching off the machines and removing his I.V., the nurse helps him stand on shaky legs.

“Sorry, you might be a little woozy, side effect from the meds. Are you okay to walk?”

He nods. “I’m good, it’s good.”

Once certain he isn’t going to fall down, the nurse leads the short man out the door and down a hallway to an elevator. Vaughn leans heavily on the nurse as they wait for the machine to take them lower.

“You know I never got your name, by the way.”

The nurse smiles faintly. “It’s Lorraine.”

Vaughn smirks. “Hey, Lorraine. Have you considered what happens if we get caught?”

Lorraine laughs harshly. “Oh, we are absolutely going to get caught, but you’ll be okay. You’ve got someone to vouch for you.”

_She must mean Yvette. But then…_

“What about you?”

Before she can give him and answer, the elevator dings and the doors slide open. Lorraine quickly peaks around the corner before pulling him towards the right hallway. They walk in silence, their hurried footsteps echoing on the empty walls.

“Professor Nakayama’s ID drive. They said it contained valuable information and that they needed to get it back to Helios.”

“By ‘valuable information’, you mean the ghost of Handsome Jack.”

Rhys had told him numerous times about the dead CEO but he hadn’t truly believed him. Until now.

Lorraine nods solemnly. “They’ve kept it under wraps, but from what I overheard, they picked you up at the Atlas facility. You, Rhys and… something about a project. I don’t know exactly.”

She takes a shaky breath. “I… didn’t know at first what they intended to do. They said they just needed an upload of the information in his brain, a copy, that’s all, but… the AI was too resistant. We tried putting him under but the AI…  Jack kept taking control.” Lorraine’s voice sounds so quiet, so frightened. She struggles to find the words. “We—they tried for days to—they said there was no other way to get the program out of—they said it would be worth it.”

Vaughn feels his blood run cold as he unconsciously refuses to process what she’s saying.

As the two approach a pair of double doors marked ‘surgery’, Lorraine stops.

“I’m sorry, Vaughn, I can’t—I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

He looks at her, face pale and sweating. She knows what’s in the room ahead of them, and it’s something so awful she won’t go in again. Vaughn feels the world shift sideways underneath him. He moves forward and a hand snatches his shoulder.

“Wait! I changed my mind. I-I shouldn’t have brought you here, it’s too much to handle… if we hurry we can get you back in—“

Vaughn shakes her hand loose and makes a break for the door, Lorraine yelling for him to stop but making no effort to chase after. He throws the doors open, coming to a halt as the pungent smell of antiseptic and the coppery taste of blood mix heavily in the air of the room.

Everything slows down.

He doesn’t see it at first, doesn’t _WANT_ to see it at first, but in the white and silver room his eyes eventually focus on the only splash of color to be found. Shivering, Vaughn approaches the operating chair, his feet not wanting to work properly.

Rhys’ body sits limply in the chair, his left arm strapped down and his right one missing. Disconnected from its shoulder plate. His head is held upright by a metal frame, the kind used in brain surgery.

Or rather, what’s left of his head.

The entire top of Rhys’ skull is gone, cut off right at the temple. Vaughn’s sick curiosity draws him closer to the gruesome scene as waves of nausea threaten to overtake him. He feels his world bottom out at the sight of his friend’s missing ECHOeye, port, and… brain. _Those monsters took his brain._ Trails of dried blood and tears run down the sides of his friend’s face, his remaining brown eye left half open and staring out at nothing in particular. His empty socket is dark and bruised, still held open by an eye speculum. His mouth is slack-jawed and hangs open slightly.

Vaughn watches himself numbly reach for his friend’s shoulder, fingers trembling. His hand finds the flesh of Rhys’ shoulder cold and stiff, void of a pulse. His skin is so pale, contrasting grossly with the still red blood splashed across his face and chest. Vaughn recoils at the alien sensation of dead flesh, his senses coming back to him in a flood of emotion.

_This isn’t real. This is a dream. It HAS to be._

He backs away from the disaster in front of him. His breathing becomes quick and hysterical as he grabs for anything to give him support, panicked gasps escaping from his lips.

“No, no please, no, no, no,” Vaughn moans over and over, as if the words would somehow fix this. He feels himself losing control, sinking to his knees, the world tearing him apart with every agonizing second that ticks by. He’s been in the room for what feels like an eternity.

They should have **never** gone to Pandora.

High heels click loudly on the tiled floor as someone enters the room, interrupting his private breakdown. Yvette pauses just inside the doorway and stares unwavering at the sight of her two former friends.

“Sorry you had to see him like this; we haven’t had a chance to clean up.”

She didn’t sound sorry. She didn’t even sound concerned.

Yvette comes to kneel beside Vaughn, a gentle hand on his quivering shoulder. It feels all but comforting but the man is too distraught to shake her off. She gives him a pat on the back and rises, taking him by the arm.

“Let’s get you back to your room.”

She says it so lightly, as if there isn’t the corpse of their dead friend just a few feet away. He doesn’t even know her anymore, not this cold unfeeling businesswoman. She’s not the same person who mooched off their lunch and made wisecracks about management. That person is gone.

Both of his best friends are dead.

Yvette sighs, pulling the short man to his feet. He can’t tear his eyes away from Rhys, he can’t look at her.

“You should have just taken the deal, Vaughn.”


	2. Rhys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to write this after Episode 5, but I decided to anyway.
> 
> I'm still not a doctor.

Rhys thinks back to when everything went to hell.

He and Fiona had just assembled the Gortys pieces and were planning to find a way to get themselves and the rest of their party out of the facility. Then the drones started attacking. What happened after they made it to the central chamber is a bit of a blur: he vaguely remembers Vaughn getting shot in the neck by one of the drones, August and Sasha yelling at each other over the commotion, a shit-ton of Loader Bots descending out of nowhere, and finally Vasquez coldcocking him in the head. How he had ended up back on Helios, much less strapped to a medical chair, was beyond him.

Rhys had awoken not too long ago, his neck screaming at him for the uncomfortable position he now found himself in. A quick scan of the room told him he was back on the space station – in the med lab to be exact – and an attempt to wipe the line of drool off his chin told him he was strapped down at the wrists, chest and ankles. An IV drip was hooked into his left arm and the tell-tale beeps of machines indicated that his vitals were being carefully monitored.

“Have a nice nap, cupcake?”

Rhys turns his head as best he can toward Jack’s voice. Blue holographic beams flicker into sight as the AI materializes on his left. Jack’s hands are crossed over his chest and he glares angrily at Rhys.

Rhys glares back. “What’s your problem? I thought you _wanted_ to get back on the station.”

“Yeah, but not like this!” Jack growls, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “The goal was to get me back to my office, genius, not get taken as a hostage by my stupid employees! Which, by the way, wouldn’t have happened if _SOMEONE_ had trusted me instead of little miss gunslinger back at the facility.”

Rhys rolls his neck, trying to sort out the tension in his neck. He really didn’t feel like being yelled by a dead CEO about his poor decision-making. At least, not while tied to a chair.

“Fine, whatever, I messed up by _not_ trusting the psychopath in my head. My bad.”

Jack clenches his fists in front of Rhys’ face, no doubt frustrated that he can’t actually strangle the man.

“You…” the AI shakes his head, laughing tensely. “You, princess, have gumption, I’ll give you that.”

Rhys shrugs, pulling slightly against his restraints. As entertaining as this banter was, he remembers his current situation.

“So what happens now? An interrogation?”

Jack looks towards the double doors leading out of the room, his expression darkening.

“I’m not exactly sure, but it’s probably going to suck for both of us.”

As if on cue, the doors swing open and a group of lab coats file in. Jack instantly winks out of sight, as though the scientists might actually see him and he didn’t want to get caught. Rhys wishes the AI would have elaborated what he meant before leaving him alone with what was definitely not the welcoming committee.

One of the scientists gives him a cursory glance before scribbling something down on a clipboard. The rest of them crowd around behind him, just out of his view. Rhys stares straight ahead, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of trying to twist pathetically against his restraints.

 _“All this technology at their disposal and they’re still using friggin’ clipboards,”_ Jack’s voice echoes irritably from somewhere in the back of his mind. _“What is this, an old-style medical drama? I gotta say, this company is an utter embarrassment now.”_

He can hear the sounds of medical instruments being placed on metal trays behind him, the scientists murmuring quietly as they discuss procedures. The ambience takes him all the way back to when he first received his cybernetics and now his heart ever so slightly begins to race. Jack, meanwhile, keeps monologuing about clipboards or something.

_“I mean, what’s the point of creating new advanced technology if these idiots are just going to stick to their stupid… pens in their pocket protectors? Your buddy Vaughn had the right idea, with his hi-tech nerd glasses. Unlimited access to the entire station system right in your face? Now THAT is some high-level thinking. I admire his intellect. And his abs. Sorta.”_

A hand rests firmly on Rhys’ face, right near his port, and now he allows himself to flinch and turn away as best he can.

“Whoa, what—“

“Don’t move, it’s okay,” a not very soothing voice tells him, the hand moving to cup more forcefully around his jaw. The familiar sound of an ECHO drive extending reaches his ears and suddenly the room feels very hot. “We just need to upload a copy of your memory files for our records. It’ll only take a second.”

_“….oh HELL no.”_

Rhys feels the strain of his right arm bending forcefully against the restraints a split second before the drive is plugged in.

Two things happen simultaneously: one, the drive enters his port and the resulting shock is so intense that Rhys throws his head back and seizes immediately. Two, his right arm snaps out of the restraints and his hand clamps around the closest neck it can find. He faintly hears the commotion around him as the scientists swarm in, all of them trying to either tear his hand away from their colleague’s windpipe or hold him still long enough to remove the drive. Rhys cannot scream or even unclench his jaw, and he worries about breaking his own teeth before finally, mercifully, the drive is yanked free.

The unfortunate scientist in his grip is turning blue, the metal hand unrelenting to any and all efforts to pry it off.

“Not… me--it’s… not me,” Rhys gasps quietly, pulling his other hand feebly against the restraints in an attempt to reach over and help.

“MOVE.”

Out of nowhere, a hand rips his shoulder plate off and starts to pull at the wires connecting his robotics to the rest of him. Nerve endings fire off violently as the pain rolls through him. _Please, no, it’s too much, please don’t_. He tries to tell them to stop, but his mouth won’t cooperate. Rhys is so dizzy from the shock and the pain, he barely registers the gross sensation of his arm being pulled completely free from its socket before blacking out.

 

* * *

 

 

“………’mon, pumpkin, talk to me.”

Rhys slowly cracks open his eyes. He’s staring down at himself, his head resting on his chest like before. He can hear Jack talking to him, but he sounds distant and… was that concern in the AI’s voice?

“Rhys, hey, say something so I know you’re not dead. If you’re dead and I’m somehow here talking to myself, I’m gonna need some answers.”

With some difficulty, he raises his head up, his neck predictably aching in protest. He blinks, looking around the room. This isn’t… oh right, he was a hostage.

“Hey, there he is!” Jack jumps back, pointing at him with finger guns. “Good ‘ol Rhysie! Glad you’re okay, pal.”

Rhys squints at him. The area around his port feels like someone gave him a good hard smack.

“What… was all that?” His voice is hoarse and his throat feels dry. How long had it been since he’d had a drink? “The hand and the… shocking thing. Was that necessary?”

“Right, um,” Jack rubs the back of his head and looks away sheepishly. “Sorry about all that, I guess.” He puts his hands on his hips. “But yes, it was very necessary. Like hell those bastards are going to get their gross nerd hands on my AI file.”

Rhys tries in vain to roll the tension out of his neck, but it doesn’t help much. “Remind me again, Jack, why you don’t want to get out of my head? I thought that was your master plan, ditch the ‘meat suit’ as soon as possible.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “See, that’s YOUR problem, you don’t listen to a single thing I’ve been telling you! Open your ears, dum-dum, I don’t like repeating myself.”

Rhys begs to differ as the older man clearly loves the sound of his own voice, but he waits for Jack to stop lecturing him and get to the point. The hologram “leans” on the nearest countertop and focuses on Rhys.

“You don’t get to the top of the corporate ladder without stepping on a LOT of faces on your way up, kid. _My_ plan was to get me back to _my_ office where _my_ computer is, as well as the main controls over Helios. That way _I’m_ the one back in charge, right?” Rhys tries not to be offended at the AI’s overly condescending tone as he listens. “Your—our current situation changes all of that. If the techies here get a hold of your ‘files’, aka ME, who knows what they’ll do with that information? There’s no guarantee their plans are going to be, ah, favorable for me. My best guess is they’re planning to auction my digital ass off to the highest bidder! Goodness knows I’ve pissed off a lot of other companies who would gladly pay through the nose to get their hands on me.” Jack shivers at the thought of being trapped on an ECHO drive again, being handed over to people who he absolutely did not do any favors for while he was alive.

Rhys momentarily feels a stab of sympathy for the guy, until he looks down and remembers that his right arm is gone. Right, that happened. He blanches at the blood stains still drying on his clothes, the pain from the ordeal still fresh on his mind. He looks back to Jack.

“Okay, fine, I get it. Kind of.” He fidgets, sitting up straight. The phantom limb sensation on his right side is mildly off-putting as he moves. “Just… a warning before you fry my circuits or use my hand to choke someone would be nice. You know, in the future.”

Jack raises a finger at him, a smug grin on his face. “You got it, pumpkin. No more surprises, cross my heart! But just so we’re clear, I _strangled_ the guy, I didn’t choke him. Those, aha, those are two different things, Rhysie.”

Before Rhys can think of a sarcastic reply, the doors swing open. Once again, almost predictably, Jack shoots Rhys a look before disappearing. Surprisingly enough, it’s not the parade of scientists this time, just one person.

“….Yvette?”

“Hi, Rhys.”

Yvette comes to stand in front of him, her posture secure and business-like, her face unreadable. Ever the perfect employee. Rhys isn’t sure how he’s supposed to feel: part of him is ecstatic to see that she’s okay and here and things will be alright now. The other part of him knows her presence does not bode well, especially here.

“You, ah,” he clears his throat. “You the good cop or bad cop? I assume you’re here to question me about what happened on Pandora.”

“Something like that, yeah.” Yvette pulls a chair over and seats herself, smoothing her tight skirt over her long legs. She studies him closely, searching for something – or someone – in his face. Rhys feels a sense of unease run through his spine, and he’s not sure if it’s him or Jack. Her eyes flicker down to the space his arm used to occupy and he follows her gaze.

“Should’ve known that was you,” Rhys mutters, partially to himself. “You’re one of the only ones who knew how to detach my arm.”

She smirks, her posture softening just the slightest bit. “To be fair, you were choking one of my top scientists.”

_“Strangling, you moron.”_

Rhys shakes his head, chuckling softly. “I know _you_ know that wasn’t me. Which is why you’re here, because you know about the Handsome Jack AI and you want to know what it’ll take for me to let you guys have it.” He ignores the loud protests and string of insults firing off in his head. “Plan A didn’t work out for you, did it?”

“The AI was… more resistant than we initially expected, yes.” Yvette wrinkles her nose, and Rhys can tell she’s bothered that their first attempt didn’t go according to plan. “I didn’t think it would be easy, but I wasn’t expecting that kind of retaliation.” Another glance at his shoulder.

“So what’s plan B,” he asks rather harshly, “or do I even want to know?”

Yvette sighs and leans forward in her chair. “Rhys, please believe me when I say we’re trying to work this out with everyone’s best interest in mind. Including yours.”

Rhys feels his respect for his "friend" depleting by the second.

“Kind of hard to accept that when I’ve been strapped to a chair for God knows how long.”

“Putting you here was for your own protection. As you’ve seen now, as we’ve all seen, this AI program is unpredictable and dangerous. Once it’s been removed, you’ll be free to go, reinstated and your record wiped clean.”

Rhys scoffs. “Back to Janitorial?”

She shakes her head. “No, of course not! I’m calling the shots now, Rhys, I can give you the promotion Vasquez denied you.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Yvette smiles and sits back in her chair. “All we need is your cooperation.”

Rhys was putting the pieces together in his mind. Yvette took the deal he and Vaughn had both refused, and somehow she’d turned the tables on Vasquez and was now in charge. But how long would that last before someone else tries to screw _her_ over? He should’ve known from the start that cold, calculating Yvette would do something this low. That’s all she’s doing in this very moment, offering another deal. If she even mentions the corporate ladder climb analogy, he will scream.

“I still haven’t heard this plan B, Yvette.”

She adjusts her glasses. “To put it simply, we’re going to remove your implants.”

Rhys already does not like this plan.

“It’s basically the same procedure as when you received them. We’ll open your head up, go in and carefully remove all the ECHO implant technology. Hyperion will provide replacements for everything, including your arm, we keep the tech for research, and you get to start fresh in a new management position.”

 _Simple_. She made it sound so simple.

“Rhys?”

He realizes he’d been staring at the floor this whole time. He forces himself to meet her gaze. He must look apprehensive as she furrows her brow.

“I can count on your cooperation here, right?”

“Sure.”

Yvette sighs shakily, relieved. “The procedure, I’ve been told, is very quick and painless, not nearly as complex as—“

“I already said yes, Yvette.”

She stands eagerly, nodding. “Of course, sorry. Thank you, Rhys, for your compliance. It should make everything so much easier for all of us.” Yvette turns to leave. “Someone will be by to brief you on the procedure later. We’ll get started first thing tomorrow. It’ll all be over before you know it.”

Rhys watches the doors close and listens for the clacking of Yvette’s heels to fade out before allowing himself to relax. It was a lot of information to take in.

“I assume you’ve got a plan,” he says to the empty room.

Jack pops up in front of him, a grim expression on his face.

“I do, but you’re not going to like it.” He turns to Rhys. “You’re not buying that ‘reinstatement’ bullshit, are you?”

Rhys looks bitterly at the doors Yvette left through. “If she screwed over Vasquez that efficiently, there’s no telling what she’ll do once you’re out of my head and I’m no longer an asset to her.”

Jack gives him an irritable look. “So nice to know you think of me as a bargaining chip, kid. Really warms the heart.”

Rhys glares at him. He’s tired, thirsty, uncomfortable, and not in the mood for Jack’s glib remarks. Remarkably, the AI picks up on this.

“Sorry, just… trying to lighten the mood.” For the first time since they’ve been together, Jack looks uneasy to him. He almost looks scared. “So, about the plan. How much do you trust me, Rhys?”

Rhys. Not ‘Rhysie’, not ‘cupcake’, not even ‘kiddo’. It worries him.

He swallows. “I-I’m not sure, when you phrase it like that. Whatever you’re plotting, Jack, just tell me. Can’t be much worse than Yvette’s idea.”

Jack’s serious face does nothing to reassure him.

“It’s… okay, it’s not really a full plan, per se, but what I’m going to—what I’m PLANNING to do, if you agree to it, should buy us some more time. To figure out a real plan.”

“I have to say, I’m not loving the vagueness of your idea so far.”

Jack gets as close to Rhys as he can without phasing through him. “Listen, I know I’ve not exactly been the _best_ tagalong through this whole thing, but I’m trying to help us both here. I know I’ve kept some things from you along the way, but right here, right now, I’m telling the truth and I _need_ you to trust me.” He “rests” a hand on top of Rhys’ remaining one. “I wouldn’t even be considering this unless the situation really called for it. Please, Rhys, I need you to understand that this is our only shot.” 

Whatever it is, Rhys concludes that it’s a last-ditch effort by a program that really, _really_ doesn’t want to be forcibly removed, and it’s probably going to hurt. A lot. But he knows his chances of trusting Hyperion and Yvette aren’t much better. Besides, seeing his former hero acting this desperate made him feel sorry for the guy.

“Okay. Okay, Jack.”

Jack blinks at him, his holographic eyes big and hopeful.

“I trust you.”

The AI straightens, still staring at him, a thankful smile on his face. “You made the right choice, buddy. I really appreciate it.”

Rhys returns the smile, though somewhat uneasily. “N-no problem.”

Jack rubs his hands together excitedly. “You might want to brace yourself,” he says before winking out of sight.

Rhys stares at the spot where he just was, suddenly uncomfortable with his decision. He waits in silence for fifteen seconds before the pain hits him.

It’s subtle at first but it intensifies almost immediately. The pain is vastly different from the shocking earlier. Now it feels like a white-hot knife is slicing through his brain, burning him from the inside out. The smoke that starts to filter from his port and the internal temperature warnings flashing in his ECHOeye tell him that’s exactly what’s happening. Rhys screams as hard as he can, gripping the chair tightly with his one hand and begging for it to stop. The searing pain turns his vision white and he barely notices the swarm of scientists spilling into the room. He jerks violently against the restraints.

“PLEASE, I’M SORRY, I’LL DO ANYTHING, JUST MAKE IT STOP!”   

Yvette pushes her way past the frantic group. “What’s going on?!”

“I-I don’t know,” a nervous tech replies. “He was fine a second ago and now—“

“Yes, I can see that,” she snaps at him. She watches as Rhys continues to thrash against his restraints, the scientists around him at a loss for what to do. The monitors beep wildly. “We can’t wait, we’ll have to do the procedure today. Prep your team.”

“But ma’am—“

**“TAKE IT OUT, PLEASE JUST TAKE IT OUT!”**

“Prep. Your team. Now.”

 

* * *

 

 

Time blurs together.

Rhys is mildly aware of the doctors injecting him, turning him, lifting his head up. Had he stopped screaming yet? The burning in his head seems to be subsiding, or at least he’s become used to it now. Hands are all around him, gently moving and adjusting his posture. Something they’ve given him makes everything feel slightly less like shit and he eagerly slips off into unconscious.

After a few minutes or a few hours, a hand on his cheek taps him softly and urges, “hey, stay with us.” _Wait, no, hands can’t talk_. Rhys opens his eyes to find he’s not, for once, staring down with his neck lolling on his chest. They’ve got him in some sort of metal frame structure and it’s holding his head up perfectly straight and still. There’s a buzzing sound and it’s close and far away at the same time. _What_ is _that noise?_ He tests it by trying to turn to the left, where he can hear the most activity going on, and is met with the same hand firmly grabbing his chin.

“Don’t move, it may feel weird, but we need you to hold still.”

Rhys follows the hand to the person it belongs to. Whoever they are behind their surgical mask, they have the kindest eyes he’s seen in a while. He’s still fuzzy from whatever they gave him, it feels kind of nice despite the circumstances, but he looks them in the eye as best he can.

“Y’ guys move fas,” he slurs, confused as to why his mouth feels heavy.

The person lets go of him when they’re sure he’s not going to move again.

“Just don’t move, okay?”

The buzzing noise stops and Rhys feels an odd tugging on top of his head. It doesn’t hurt exactly, it just feels… wrong. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to focus on anything besides the sick feeling washing over him.

“Rhys, you still with us?”

“Y-y-yeah, ’s just… weird,” he articulates as best he can. The feeling passes soon and he open his eyes, looking down at his shirt. It’ll have to be throw out, it’s too dirty now. Though it’s not like he can’t get a dozen more in the exact same style.

….Wasn’t he supposed to be doing something? Or not let them do something?

Suddenly a pop-up notification in his ECHOeye tells him ‘connection terminated, shutting down’ before everything on his left goes dark. He can feel cold instruments on his eye socket, a slight pressure in his face, and more of the weird pulling and twisting. Then a small click, and Rhys is met with the sight of his own (robotic) eye looking back at him. It makes him feel sick again and he whimpers softly. Another tugging at his temple reminds him that his port has to come out as well. He braces himself for the sharp disconnect and releases a steady breath after it happens. A trickle of something warm runs down the side of his face. _Almost done_ , he tells himself. Now all that’s left to remove is the main circuitry attached to his—

“What’s the problem?”

“I, uh… there seems to be, um, scarring around the memory circuits. That’s odd.”

 _“Yeah, sorry about that, kiddo.”_ Jack had been so quiet up until now, Rhys had quite frankly forgotten about him. _“I tried not to fry your nerves too much.”_

He almost makes a comment before a sharp twinge in his head makes his chest spasm.

“Ow, what the hel--”

Another twinge, twice as painful, cuts him off and leaves him gasping.

“What are you doing,” he hears Yvette yell at the head surgeon. “Quit fucking around and remove the drive!”

“I-I-I-I can’t! It’s been… it looks like it’s been melded to his brainstem. Forcing it could damage the drive and I can’t remove it safely without—I’m sorry, it just can’t be removed.”

The room goes silent aside for the beeps of the monitors and Rhys’ soft panting.

“What do you want to do, ma’am?”

“Remove it. All of it.”

Yvette sounds calm and in control. Rhys feels his blood run cold.

“Remove the—? But, b-but that’ll—“

“He’s one employee, one who cost us a lot of money, and we NEED that file.”

 _“What exactly does she think she’s doing?”_ Jack’s voice is tense and low.

“Do your job, or I’ll find someone else to do it.”

“......Understood.”

With that, Rhys yanks violently against the restraints, fighting off the immediate barrage of hands trying to hold him down. “No! You can’t do this!” He knows he’s risking permanent brain trauma but it doesn’t matter. “Please don’t do this! Yvette, we had a deal!”

Yvette sighs, unaffected by his struggling. “You promised to cooperate, Rhys. Sorry, but the situation’s changed. The deal’s off.”

 _“No no no, you **IDIOTS!** This wasn’t supposed to—you can’t just do this to someone! You can’t do this to **ME!** ” _Jack’s rage resonated throughout his entire body, amplified by his own. Together they fight against their bindings, refusing to go down without a struggle.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but… we risk damage to the components unless he stops moving. I can’t get a clean cut. Get me some more anesthesia.”

“We don’t have time for—give me that.”

Something jabs him, roughly, at the base of his neck and his movements go limp. It feels like his head would drop off if it weren’t for the metal frame. His breathing becomes shallow and haggard, like his lungs won’t inflate.

“Wh… wha… w-what did you do?”

The people around him steadily back off, but he can’t feel them let go of his limbs. He can’t even feel his limbs, they’ve gone entirely numb.

“Yvette, what did you just do?”

“…….you, y-you just….”

Rhys’ eye darts to the doors, where a young nurse stands frozen in place. Her brown eyes are wide with horror and her face has gone completely pale.

“You just… wh-why did you do that to him,” she squeaks out quietly.

“What are you doing here, Lorraine?!” One of the surgeons, not the meek one assigned to do all the important stuff, sounds livid. “Get her out of here, she doesn’t have clearance to be back here!” Rhys watches numbly as she is forcibly pulled out of the room, her eyes never leaving his.

“There. Problem solved, doctor,” Yvette says, though the word ‘doctor’ is more of a threat than a title. “Now finish the job.”

“R-right.”

Rhys wants to cry, to scream, to punch Yvette in her stupid, lying face. But he can’t do a damn thing except sit there, paralyzed, while his former best friend kills him. He barks out a laugh at the idea: she literally stabbed him in the back.

_“No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no…”_

Jack’s presence in his mind is deep and panicked. He can no longer see him thanks to his eye being gone, but it feels like the AI is clawing at his grey matter, desperate to stay with the younger man.

_“Not again, not like this.”_

Rhys has no words for the feeling of his brain being lifted out of his skull. It’s both violating and disgusting.

“Making the incision now.”

_“Rhys?”_

He hears Jack, distant and scared, before a quick pinch of nerves shoots down his


End file.
